Tomorrow
by elven-princess88
Summary: One shot fic. Voldemort attacks Hogwarts, and he takes Ron captive. How will his two best friends react to a life without him? RHr, HHr friendship


A/N: Just a little one shot fic I thought up and couldn't bear not to write. This is my first Harry Potter fic, and it was definitely different writing for these characters instead of what I normally write, but it was fun! Hope you like it!  
  
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Harry stared blankly at the curtains of his four poster bed, replaying the events of that day over and over in his head. He could still hear the screams, still smell the blood, still feel the ripping pain in his scar. They were all horrible memories, but he liked them. They were much better than the other image that kept popping up, the one that haunted him every time he tried to close his eyes. He knew he would never forget that look on Ron's face. The look of utmost determination and fear which might well be the last expression he would ever see his best friend make.  
  
*Why am I just lying here?* he thought for what must have been the hundredth time that night. *I should be out there, doing something.*  
  
The rational part of his brain knew that there was nothing he could do, that Dumbledore would take care of it in that way that only Dumbledore could. The other, much larger part of his brain, just didn't care. Ron was his best friend, dammit, and he had to do something to help him.  
  
His mind made up, he carefully climbed out from underneath the covers, and pulled his invisibility cloak from his trunk. Swinging it over his shoulders, he slipped through the hangings of his bed, and crept towards the door. He stopped suddenly, staring at his friend's empty bed. The covers were still messy, and his pyjamas were scrunched up and dumped near the pillow. Harry smiled for a moment. Ron never bothered to make his bed in the morning. With it all messed up like that, he could think that he was still there, and had just got up to finish off some essay, or to sneak down to the kitchens for some food. He could almost believe it. Almost, but not quite.  
  
Sighing, he made his way down the staircase to the common room. He was surprised to see another figure sitting on the sofa by the fire. What were they doing up at this hour? It had to be nearly three in the morning! He didn't care though. He could just sneak past them, and if they heard him, or noticed the portrait being opened, then it wasn't his problem. His only problem now was helping Ron.  
  
He had almost made it to the portrait hole, when he heard the person speak.  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
Hermione.  
  
Harry spun around. There she was, curled up on the sofa, a large heavy book balanced on her lap. He hadn't recognised her in the dim light, and he rather wished that he hadn't recognised her at all. He had been determined to go and help Ron, but one look at his other best friend made his priorities instantly change. He couldn't believe that he had been so selfish and wrapped up in his own self loathing that he had forgotten about her.  
  
She didn't look like his best friend. The Hermione he knew was always strong, and brave, and never let anything get to her. The Hermione sitting here look small, and frightened and alone. Her eyes were red and swollen, and a few stray tears were crawling slowly down her cheeks. She was ghostly pale, and her hair was limp, clinging to her cheeks and sticking up at the back. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and balanced there was a book which, rather that being half read, was still on the first page, now damp with tears.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Harry?!"  
  
She looked around wildly, and he pulled off the cloak.  
  
"Harry, what are you doing?"  
  
Harry couldn't look at her. He knew that she was going to have a go at him for trying to sneak away.  
  
"I was... I was going to try and help Ron."  
  
Instead of yelling at him, Hermione just shook her head.  
  
"And do what?"  
  
That question stumped him. He had been expecting scolding, reprimands, a list of reasons why it was dangerous, even her begging him not to go, but a simple question like that had not been on the list. She sounded so lost when she said it, that before he even realised it, he found himself sitting carefully down beside her.  
  
"I don't know," he said finally.  
  
"There's nothing you can do. There's nothing *anyone* can do."  
  
"That's not true," he said firmly, even though he had been thinking the same thing himself ever since it had happened.  
  
"Yes, it is," she replied, just as firmly. "Voldemort's gonna win, and Ron's gonna die, and there's nothing we can do about it." At that, she dissolved into a wave of tears, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry stared blankly at her for a minute, unsure what to do. Even after being best friends with one for six years, he still didn't know what to do when a girl cried.  
  
Tentatively, he reached out and put his arm around her. She shifted towards him, put her head into his chest, and continued to cry. As she moved, the book on her lap fell sideways. Harry grabbed it with his free hand, and studied the page that Hermione had been looking at. He had been right in thinking it was the first page. The title was on the right hand side, written in gold, and Harry instantly recognised it. It was the book that Ron had given Hermione for Christmas.  
  
His suspicions were confirmed when he looked at the inside cover, and saw a message written in Ron's untidy scrawl.  
  
Hermione,  
  
Merry Christmas and all that. Hope you like this book. I've never heard of it, but I spoke to Dean, and he says it's a muggle classic that girls like to read, so I thought you might like it. You never know - it might even be good enough to take your mind off homework for about 2 seconds!  
  
Love Ron.  
  
"Pride and Prejudice," Hermione said quietly, following Harry's gaze. "I'd never liked that silly romance stuff, but I was so taken aback by Ron getting me a muggle book, of all things, that I decided to read it."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And it was the best book I've ever read. Whether that's because it's good, or because Ron gave it to me, I don't know." She ran her finger along where Ron had scrawled his message. "I wondered about that for weeks afterwards, you know. 'Love Ron.' Why did he put that? Why not just 'Ron'? He was hinting, I know he was, but I was just so scared of losing him, of ruining our friendship, or even worse, being wrong and getting laughed at, that I kept quiet about it. It wasn't until recently that..."  
  
She trailed off, and her eyes glazed over, as she stared at the spot on the page. A few more tears fell down, smudging the writing.  
  
"When did you get together?" Harry asked. He'd known that they fancied each other for ages, but he'd never actually done anything to get them to get their act together. Now he had the distinct feeling that they had finally given in to their feelings without his help. He was surprised to discover that rather than feel upset that his two best friends had a bond he would never have with anyone, he felt happy for them.  
  
"Yesterday," she said sadly. "While we were arguing. One minute we were yelling at each other, and the next we were kissing. We were gonna meet here tonight to, I don't know, talk about it or something." A slight grin spread across her face, then disappeared as she went on. "But now we can't. In fact, I don't know if we ever will, and it's all my fault."  
  
Harry started at that. All her fault?! What deluded world was she living in?  
  
"It's not your fault!" he said, more forcefully than he meant to. "It's mine!"  
  
"Oh please!" Hermione snapped, sitting up straight and staring menacingly at him. "How can this be your fault? You had enough to worry about." She paused as she went over all the events of that day in her head, shuddering at the memory. Finally, she said, "He made his own choice."  
  
"Then how can this be your fault?!" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"Because I should have stopped him. There was no need for him to do what he did. I should have said something, done something, but I just stood there. It's all my fault."  
  
"Maybe it isn't anyone's fault," Harry said quietly, not looking at her. He had always been so quick to blame himself for everything that had ever gone wrong, but now he realised that maybe that wasn't right. Maybe there were things that just happened, whatever anyone did to try and prevent them. "Maybe it happened because Ron's a brave idiot who didn't want to see anybody else get hurt. The only person who you can blame for that is Voldemort."  
  
They fell into silence then, both of them just staring at the slowly dying fire, wondering what was going to happen now.  
  
"I wish we were still kids," Hermione said after a while. "I wish we didn't have to worry about things like this."  
  
"We were never kids," Harry said sadly. "Not even in our first year. And we've always had to worry about things like this."  
  
"It's not fair."  
  
"No, it's not."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Do you. . . do you remember in our second year, when Malfoy called me a mudblood?"  
  
Harry nodded, wondering what she was getting at. "Everyone freaked out."  
  
"Yeah," she said, giving him a watery smile. "It seemed like such a big thing at the time. But it's not. It's really, really not."  
  
She was quiet for a long time, and Harry was wondering whether she'd finished, when she spoke. "Ron was so mad. He defended me, even though I didn't even know what the word meant. He spent the rest if the day coughing up slugs, even though when I found out what a mudblood was, I didn't even care that much. Every time Malfoy called me that word after that, I didn't really mind. He can think what he will, because in the end, he's the one with bad blood, not me. But Ron got so mad, every single time. The number of times he got into trouble because of me. . ." She trailed off, and bit her lip thoughtfully.  
  
Harry tried to push down the emotions that memory brought racing to the surface. The misery about what had happened, the sick feeling in his gut when he thought about what might be happening to his best friend at that moment, and, most of all, the raging hatred towards Malfoy after what had happened. You wouldn't have known he felt any of this by looking at him, though. Harry had had plenty of practice hiding his feelings over the years, and he wasn't about to let up now.  
  
"I've never been more confused than I was in our fourth year, when we had the Yule Ball," Hermione began again, looking down at her lap as she spoke. "Viktor asked me to go with him, and I didn't know what to say. I knew I didn't fancy him, but I didn't think anyone else would ask me. I wanted to go with Ron so badly that it hurt to think about it, but I knew he'd never ask me, especially not after what he said about wanting to take the prettiest girl who'd have him. There was no way he'd ever fancy me. I was just his ugly best friend. So I said yes to Viktor, and I've never regretted anything that much in my life."  
  
Harry wondered briefly why she was telling him all this. Wasn't this the sort of stuff she would normally tell Ginny? But then he realised that maybe she couldn't tell Ginny about her feelings for Ron. She was his sister, after all, and Hermione wasn't exactly social. He was the only other friend she had, and maybe she needed to tell someone about it all, especially after what had happened.  
  
"He was so jealous, even though he'd never admit it. He spent the entire ball watching our every more. I didn't understand why to start with, but I suppose it was to make sure he didn't try anything. He confronted me about it loads of times, you know. He'd drag me off to some dark corner and lecture me about it. 'He's too old for you, Hermione! He's from Durmstrang, Hermione! He's just using you, Hermione!' That last one made me so angry. How dare he suggest that? But he was so adamant. 'He doesn't even know how to say your name, Hermione! He's famous, and he's 18! I'm telling you, Hermione, there's only one thing he wants from you, and it sure isn't a nice long conversation about books!' He was so annoying!" Hermione looked up at Harry once again, and he was surprised to see that she was crying.  
  
"Harry?" she said, her voice shaking. She sounded so lost and afraid that Harry nearly starting crying just hearing her.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I don't want him to die."  
  
Harry put his arms around her again. He didn't quite know why he did it, but she seemed to need it. "He won't. I promise."  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"No," he said quietly. "I don't."  
  
They sat like that for ages, her head on his shoulder while his arms held her to him. Harry glanced at the invisibility cloak, still lying on the floor where he had dropped it. Sneaking out to help Ron seemed like the stupidest thing in the world at that moment. He couldn't leave Hermione all on her own. He couldn't lose both his best friends. Not now.  
  
He listened to her breathing slow, and he had thought she had gone to sleep, when she said, "What's going to happen tomorrow?"  
  
He couldn't even begin to imagine it. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.  
  
"Me neither," she replied. "I don't think I wanna know." She paused, then said, "It's going to be awful, isn't it?"  
  
Harry didn't know what to say to that.  
  
**********  
  
A/N: Please review! 


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